


a book of firsts

by pyrality



Category: Haikyuu!!
Genre: Day 2: First Times, First Date, Fluff, For Iwaoi Week on tumblr, M/M, coffee shop date, oikawa is whiny but cute and iwaizumi is charmed as always
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-09-03
Updated: 2014-09-03
Packaged: 2018-02-16 00:09:10
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,556
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2248611
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/pyrality/pseuds/pyrality
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p></p><blockquote>
  <p>(He thinks maybe, he has been in love for years and years without realizing it. But since he stood on the second floor balcony of his room when he was fourteen after their middle school graduation and watched a storm rumble in the horizon, stirring up out in the ocean, Iwaizumi has known— Oikawa is a book of firsts. He is not a word, a sentence, a paragraph, a page, or even a chapter. He is the entire book of Iwaizumi’s life, each chapter a new story of a new first: first time holding hands, first hug, first kiss, first date—)</p>
</blockquote>
            </blockquote>





	a book of firsts

**Author's Note:**

> [For Oiiwa Week Day 2: First Times](http://iwaoiweek.tumblr.com/post/93243612673/iwaoi-oiiwa-week-its-time-monday-september-1st)

Oikawa smiles sweetly at him over the rim of his coffee cup, eyes sharp and Iwaizumi tugs at the sleeves of his hoodie beneath the table. The brunet hums, setting his coffee cup down and tracing his finger along the rim as he props his elbow up on the table and leans his cheek into his hand. There is clear amusement in his eyes as he chuckles, turning his face into his hand and trying to smother it behind his fingers in a half-hearted attempt to hide it. Iwaizumi swallows when he feels Oikawa stretch his legs out beneath the table, foot brushing along his shin as he crosses his legs.  
  
“You’re nervous, huh?” Oikawa tilts his head against his hand, smiling again, and Iwaizumi hates the way he has to rub his sweaty hands against his jeans beneath the table when he notices the warm look in the brunet’s eyes. “So you’re shy. How cute, Iwa-chan,” he whistles, quirking an eyebrow at him, seeming both gleeful and pleased. “What an unexpected charm point.”  
  
“Shut up, I’m not— I’m not _shy_ ,” Iwaizumi replies defensively, leaning over the table, hands fisted against his thighs, brow furrowed and lip thrown out in a pout.   
  
He averts his eyes, finds that he can’t hold Oikawa’s gaze and isn’t sure where to look. He chews on his lower lip, a habit he’s had since he was young when he’s particularly anxious. He flicks his eyes up to meet the other teen’s, tongue smoothing over his lip quickly as if it can hide his habit. Oikawa’s lips curl further, eyes darting to follow the movement of Iwaizumi’s tongue as his own flicks across his lips. The dark-haired boy feels a bit warm under his skin at the implication of interest there and reaches up to hook his finger into the collar of his shirt to fan it against his skin. He places one hand on the table, tapping a finger against the polished cherry brown wood surface, glances at Oikawa whose boyish face is framed by the gentle curls of his brunet hair along his forehead and the soft lighting of extravagant chandelier above hugging along his cheekbones. Iwaizumi sighs, closes his eyes and puffs out an amused laugh to himself. It’s stupid of him to be so jittery when he’s known Oikawa for so long— grew up holding hands with the damn kid since he was five, seen him through his worst and seen him at his best. Oikawa’s temperamental and moody, just like a storm, but the ocean is not always calm either, and the other boy has seen him before with bruised skin and scraped knuckles and bloody noses and still chose to stand by him. They’ve always been a package deal and it was stupid of him to not remember that they’ve been with each other through thick and thin and everything in between too.  
  
(He thinks maybe, he has been in love for years and _years_ without realizing it. But since he stood on the second floor balcony of his room when he was fourteen after their middle school graduation and watched a storm rumble in the horizon, stirring up out in the ocean, Iwaizumi has _known_ — Oikawa is a book of firsts. He is not a word, a sentence, a paragraph, a page, or even a chapter. He is the entire book of Iwaizumi’s life, each chapter a new story of a new first: first time holding hands, first hug, first kiss, first date—)  
  
Iwaizumi opens his eyes and looks out the window, eyes on the rain pouring down outside, pitter-pattering softly against the glass window, ambient noise in conjunction with the quiet chatter in the coffee shop and the muted crackling of the fireplace in the center. “I’m not nervous either,” he says finally, meeting Oikawa’s gaze evenly. “It’s our first official date. I’m just a little on edge; that’s all.”  
  
“Pffffft.” Oikawa waves a hand dismissively before he leans forward, folding his arms on the table on top of each other in front of his coffee cup. Iwaizumi can see his reflection in the dark liquid, pale features reflected in the soft waves of the drink amidst the light steam still rising from it. He grins, looking ridiculously smug in a way that Iwaizumi wants to kiss off his lips— “Iwa-chan, that’s what being nervous _means_. Use your head a little bit more,” he scoffs, over exaggerating when he flops back against the booth and folds his arms across his chest as though disappointed.  
  
“Asking me out on a date and then insulting me isn’t gonna win you any brownie points with me,” Iwaizumi answers, raising an eyebrow at him challengingly.  
  
“Oh, I’m sorry, _Iwaizumi-kun_ ,” Oikawa says, leaning forward again, arms still crossed across his chest, lips quirking up on one side in a smirk. “Tell Oikawa-san how he can make it up to you.”  
  
“You’re paying, for one,” the dark-haired answers, hiding his grin behind his coffee cup when he takes a long sip from it. He sets his cup down and clears his throat. “I guess that’ll do for a start.”  
  
“How cruel,” the other boy moans dramatically, closing both of his eyes and swinging his hand up to press the back of it against his forehead in a theatric display of woe. He cracks one eye open to peer at him as he speaks. “You’re just the _worst_ — toying with my pure heart and after I finally worked up the courage to ask the handsome, _handsome_ Iwaizumi-kun out, he plays me for a fool.”  
  
Iwaizumi thinks briefly, of leaning over the table and kissing him. It’d be easy though to get distracted and end up curling a hand against his cheek and kissing him until they’re out of breath and too warm beneath their skin. “You’ve always been one though,” he says gently, without any bite to it.  
  
Oikawa’s eyes soften and he looks down into his coffee cup, finger tracing along the rim again. He puffs out a breathless laugh before looking back up at Iwaizumi, the look in his eyes and in his expression unreadable, “You really are mean, Iwa-chan. The absolute worst. I guess that makes you right about me being a fool then, doesn’t it?” He props both his elbows onto the table, leaning his chin into the middle of both of his palms. “We’re good though, you know. Yin and yang? Peanut butter and jelly? Pencil and paper?” He curls forward and slides back in his seat, folding his arms over the table and tucks his face behind them, holding Iwaizumi’s gaze through his bangs.  
  
“You’re incredible and _not_ in a good way.”  
  
“King and lionheart?” Oikawa asks, the question coming out a little muffled.  
  
Iwaizumi holds his gaze for a long while before he sighs, leaning his cheek against the palm of his hand and looking out the window. The rain isn’t letting up. It might be stormy later if it keeps up. Even if it’s hell to get back to their apartment in that kind of weather, he knows Oikawa personally loves it when it’s windy outside and raining hard because it makes for good atmosphere and ambient noise for him to write. He smiles despite himself.  
  
“Hajime,” Oikawa tilts his head and leans it against the side of his arm. When Iwaizumi turns his gaze back to meet him, he smiles in that strange, warm, and fond way that makes his eyes crinkle at the corners and his voice is hushed when he says, “Marry me.”  
  
“Ask me again when we’re older,” Iwaizumi manages after a few seconds of stunned silence. He brings his coffee cup to his lips and takes a long sip from it, eyes focused on the dark liquid inside the cup as he drinks. His heart is thudding in his chest and his face is burning and he feels a little bit like laughing with how giddy he is at Oikawa’s words. He sets his cup down onto the platter, unable to bite back the grin tugging at his lips. “Maybe when you’re not still a snot-nosed brat— I’ll consider it. Besides, who proposes on the first date anyway?”  
  
“How mean, Iwa-chan,” Oikawa laughs, loud and genuine, kicking his foot lightly against Iwaizumi’s own beneath the table. He hums, sitting back in the booth, arms tucked behind his head to cushion him. “A false first proposal then.” He makes a long, whiny noise before tsking, "You’re ruthless! I’ll have to buy something very extravagant to woo you, won’t I?”  
  
“Don’t be stupid— I’m with you sick or poor, dumbass.”  
  
Oikawa stares at him, wide-eyed, and Iwaizumi stubbornly holds his gaze despite the way his cheeks are burning. He feels Oikawa tangle his feet between his own under the table as the brunet leans forward again, bracing his hands against the edge of the table. His eyes are still wide, but no longer in a surprised way, more that he seems excited and happy. He puffs a breath up, blowing his bangs out of the way as he leans forward even further across the table and Iwaizumi feels prompted to meet him halfway.  
  
They kiss, slow and languid over the tabletop, feet still tangled under the table, and Iwaizumi smiles as he feels another chapter starting in his book. 


End file.
